My city of birth that I will describe here is called Biała Rawska. It is about
ten miles south of Warsaw, on the left side of the Vistula River. In my time
(1890-1905), the majority of the population was Jewish, comprising about 300
families.

I'm not familiar with the story of the first Jewish settlers of the town. In
fact, there was really no one in the town who knew this story. The inscriptions
on the tombstones in the old Jewish cemetery, as well as in the shul,
whose construction no one remembered, were witness to the fact that the Bialer
community existed at the beginning of the 18th century. I use the
word community, because there were individual Jews possibly living there
already in the 17th century, and maybe even before that.

In Biala, contrary to Sholom Aleichem's folktales, there were fewer poor people
than rich people. That means, that everyone was poor, even the so-called
rich ones. But according to the general lifestyle of those times,
there were almost no real poor in the town because of the low standards of
living that prevailed. An income of three rubles a week was enough to cover the
needs of daily living for a couple with two or three children. Even the Rav
of the town received no more than a fifteen ruble annual pension. Since the
earnings of most people in the town were enough for wages and for basic needs,
a real pauper was only the one who went from house to house collecting handouts
(alms). There were only a few such people in the town. On the other hand, a
rich man was someone that earned a few hundred rubles, whose hundreds became,
in the way of things, thousands.

These types of rich people were in large number in the town. But they lost
their wealth (though they did not, God forbid, become poor) after they married
off one or two of their children. They gave the new couple dowries, gifts,
wedding provisions, furniture, and sometimes even room and board.

The Jewish population comprised about 29% small-scale merchants and
storekeepers, 20% shoemakers, 15% tailors, 10% butchers, 5% wagon drivers,
and 5% of those who worked in the religious professions, such as the rabbi,
khazzen (cantor), shokhtim (ritual slaughterers), and about 10
religious teachers. There were a couple of hat makers, tinsmiths,
carpenters, barbers, knitters, and one weaver. There were no Jewish
professionals, such as doctors or lawyers.

A number of shoemakers and tailors had workrooms (areas) in their one-room
homes, and often employed a few workers, generally the local youths. They were
called tandaytnikes. Other shoemakers and tailors worked in
their homes only taking customized orders. These orders were mainly for boots or
for clothing for the holidays (Yom Tov), also for wedding outfitting. The
tandaytnikes would sell their materials at the fairs of the surrounding towns
and villages, and sometimes to local customers.

The main source of income was from the farming population of the surrounding
villages. The farmers would bring grain, fruit, greens, eggs, and dairy into
the town. They would sell these products to a merchant or storekeeper and use
the money they received to buy what they needed for their daily life.

The landowners around the town borrowed money from the rich people and shopped
on credit at the stores. Often they would sell their last bunch of grain or the
wool from their sheep. The landowners, as well as the farmers, would sell their
cattle to the butchers and their horses to the wagon drivers. A common Jew
would rent an orchard from the landowner or farmer, and after this Jew, his
wife and children would laze around for five months in their orchard, this
sadovnik (lessee) would come back into town with tens of
rubles as earnings, and frequently with more than a hundred.

Merchants and storekeepers did not wait until the farmers would bring their
products into the town. They went to the villages and bought the products at
the individual farms. The butchers and wagon drivers did the same.

The lifestyle was inexpensive. The daily menu consisted primarily of

Joseph Meyer Weber (as a young Yeshiva boy)
and his wife, before departing for America in 1905

potatoes, bread, other grains, and dairy. The cost of these products was low.
Rent for a room was about 20 rubles per year. A wagonload of wood for heating
would cost about three rubles. A travel ticket to a nearby city was around 20
to 30 kopecks. To go by train, you would often go only with connections (by
pulling strings, na blat). Tuition for a young boy in cheder
was about 10 rubles a year in the younger classes, and about 25 ruble in the
higher grades. That's how everyone's income was enough for the basics and other
needs, though some had to collect more money to sustain them.

All the residents in the town were religiously disposed. They prayed three
times a day, observed Shabbos, celebrated all the holidays (yomim tovim),
fasted on all the fast days, blessed each new month and each new moon, did
not taste any food before praying on Shabbos, washed hands and said
se'u yedeichem (lift the hand) before eating
[bread], then said the grace after meals; said krias shema
before going to sleep and modeh ani upon rising every
morning. Children that were already old enough to speak would have to say
modeh ani or brochos blessings.

During Selichos time (the week before Rosh Hashana), children and
adults alike would rise before daybreak and go to shul for the selichos
prayers. During the yomim noraim (the time between Rosh Hashana and
Yom Kippur), everyone in the town agreed, that even the fish in the waters
are trembling. On Rosh Hashana, the entire town, women and children as
well, would go down to the river and throw away their sins (tashlich).
On the day of Yom Kippur eve, everyone would shlog kapores
(swing a chicken around the head), and even a newborn had to do the same.

Every child had a religious upbringing, and the boys went to shul with their
fathers. There were no misnagdim (those who opposed the
Chassidim) or apikorsim (heretics) in the town, and each person
in the settlement would travel to see his Tzaddik leader
as frequently as possible.

The dominant role that religion held in the town had a destructive effect on
the cultural side of life. Everything in the town was colored by religion. The
babies were delivered with the help of a simple, unfamiliar woman who had
experience of childbirth solely through the many births that she had endured.
The religious view did not permit that a male, even a doctor, particularly a
non-Jewish doctor, should take part in the delivery at all.

If there were complications during a birth, the family would gather a minyan
(10 men) who would begin to pray at the bedside of the woman in labor. If a
woman in labor would was in a dangerous situation, they would tie a rope from
her bed to the aron kodesh (Holy Ark) in the shul or in the beis
medrash (place of learning). When the child was born, they would hang
shir hamalos notes (praises to God) around his bed so that evil spirits or
demons should have no influence over the new mother and child, and every evening,
a teacher and a group of young children would come and recite shema yisroel.

When a young boy turned three years old, for the first time he went or was taken
(carried, in fact) to cheder. He went with a little hat on his head and a pair
of tzitzis or a tallis kotton on his body. In cheder, the little
boy was taught the alef bais (Hebrew alphabet), and the gimmel
(third letter of the alphabet) became a little bag of money that fell from heaven.
In cheder, the boy also learned all the blessings, learned to be God fearing,
and how to protect himself from evil spirits.

Later, when the boy grew a little older, he would learn Hebrew and how to daven
(pray). When he would enter chumash cheder (the older classes where he would
learn chumash or Bible), the teacher would explain everything in a religious
context: Noah and the Patriarchs were painted as Tzaddikim and Godly people
who fulfilled all the mitzvos (religious commandments), prayed wearing their
tallis and tefillin all the time, and were always reciting tehillim
(Psalms) and learning Gemara (Talmud). Moses was presented simply as a
religious leader, a mediator between God and the Jews. A sort of chassidic
rabbi on a larger scale. The boy, and later as a father as well, would refer to Moses
as Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses our Rabbi).

The Prophets were portrayed as Godly people who were able to see the future's
events and whose task it would be to punish the Jews for disobeying God's
commands.

According to the teacher, the destruction of the Temple was the greatest
tragedy in Jewish history because now there was no place to offer sacrifices to
God, or perform the rituals and other religious ceremonies. The word galus
(exile), meant exile of the Divine Presence, a tragedy of God, in which the
exile of the nation of Israel played a distinct role.

Channuka was celebrated because of God's miracle in making one vial of oil
that was enough for one day and yet one candle lasted for eight days. Something in the
story of Channuka retained the word Maccabi. But this was only
as a reminder that during Channuka a special prayer was to be recited among
the regular prayers. Purim was celebrated because MordekhaiHatzaddik was victorious over Haman the evil man. Pesach (Passover)
had more of a relevance with its matzo and chometz (leavened foods),
the seder, the four cups of wine, and Eliyahu the Prophet, rather than with the
Jews leaving Egypt (yetzias mitzrayim). Shavuos is a holiday in honor
of receiving the Torah. Tisha B'Av (the ninth day of the month of Av) is the day
of the destruction of the Temple. No weight was placed on the fact that along with the
destruction of the Temple the existence of the Jewish people went along with it.
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur were Days of Awe, because in the
heavens people would be judged and God would be deciding who was going to live
or die in the coming year.

Other than the fact that chumash was learned with a religious perspective,
in general the learning went according to כצפחות
בדבש, a system that can be translated as a taste
of honey, as a woman that has conceived and will give birth to a boy,
etc., etc.

The regular boy did not go any higher than chumash cheder
with his learning, as if to say the boy doesn't want to study. So,
the father would take him to work or would give him as an apprentice
to another local tradesman. And that's how a boy grew up to be a Jew who could hardly
daven (pray). The children of more prominent families, who had to take in more
learning, because these children, God forbid, cannot be made into shoemakers or
tailors, were sent to gemara cheder (more advanced learning).
There, the Talmud was mainly studied, along with the commentaries, post-Talmudic
commentaries, and other religious texts. Not only did they not learn world history,
geography, etc., but not even Jewish history was touched.

Teaching the children Hebrew, grammar, etc. was considered unnecessary and
dispensable, even though the teacher himself had a solid knowledge of these
subjects.

In the town, there was a government elementary school, where children learned
to read and write Polish and Russian, arithmetic, etc. The education was free
of charge because most of the residents were already paying a school tax.
However, none of the Jewish boys went to this school because since the Czar's
picture was on the wall, they would have to sit with their heads uncovered,
something a Jewish boy would never think of doing.

From the time a boy left his cradle, until the final moments of his life, a Bialer Jew would never
remove his hat or yarmulke from his head, except at the barber or when bathing. And
even if one could sit in school with his hat on, this Jewish boy would still not attend this school
because the cheder took up his whole day and evening, from 12 to 14 hours a day. For the same
reason, the cheder boys did not go to Mendel Schreiber, who taught writing and reading, and aside
from that occupied himself with watch making. His students were all girls.

The only place where a boy could learn to read and write was in the cheder.
The teacher would write a grizel גריזעל,
an example of letters or a complete sentence and would give this to the boys to copy. Meanwhile, the
teacher would have a nap and a quick bite to eat, whiles the boys were busy
with their writing. When the teacher roused himself from his snooze, he would
examine the boys' writing and test the boys' reading, and right after that,
would continue on with learning chumash or gemara. Since most of the writing
time was dedicated to Yiddish, math, and correspondence writing, and very little
time to Polish and Russian, most of the Jewish boys knew a little Yiddish, a bit of
math, and practically no Polish or Russian.

If a Bialer Jew needed to write a Yiddish letter, he would have to go to a
קענער or someone that knows
how to write the address on the envelope. So, this education system
resulted in the educated ones in the town possessing a greater or lesser
knowledge base in Talmudic and religious books, being able to write a letter,
and knowing a little bit of addition, subtraction, and multiplication. But even
this educated one could not respond to a question with a
grammatically correct and sophisticated Hebrew sentence, nor was he able to
name three or four Jewish kings in chronological order.

In this sort of cultural situation in the town, naturally, there was no need
for literature. Part of the residents were not even able to daven.
The rest of them would occupy their free time with learning Talmudic texts or
with reciting Psalms. No one had any idea about Mendele Mocher Seforim, Y.L.
Peretz, M. Spector, Sholom Aleichem, Y. Denizon, etc. The names Shomer,
Tannenbaum, etc., were a little familiar only to the youth that worked for a
little bit in the larger cities such as Lodz and Warsaw, and they would also
tell about the existence of theater and actors. They would also bring folk
music into the town which the mothers would use as lullabies for their
children. Also, some of Goldfaden's pieces were used in Purim plays.
There was no newspaper in the town. The seforim (religious books)
in the Beis Medrash (study hall) comprised the only library in town.

In the first years of the 20th century, there were already a few boys
studying in the Beis Medrash who subscribed to Yiddish papers and read
Mapu, Smolenski, and other writers of the Enlightenment (Haskalah) period
in the most secret fashion. But when the town discovered these goings-on, there
was a terrible outcry. That's how the cultural life looked in the town at the time.

Medical care in the town was exceptionally poor, and hygiene was generally an
unknown concept. There was lots of illness, but nevertheless, the mortality
rate was within a normal range because the fresh air that the winds would blow
from the surrounding fields, gardens, and forests, along with the nourishing,
fresh foods helped prolong the life span and overcome illness.

Speaking of issues of illness, it is worthwhile to mention that the words
illness and sick were not uttered in the town. Instead,
the words sleepiness or sleep were used. The
sleepy behaviors mentioned were mainly colds, typhus, pneumonia,
etc., all of which began with the ayin horo or evil eye. In the
town, they didn't know about heart disease, cancer, blood poisoning, etc. It was
only that these types of towns were taken over by sorcery, apoplexy,
or were just caught.

If anyone took to being sleepy, he would take home remedies that a
neighbor would recommend, for example cupping or leeches. A doctor was called
only in situations where the illness had worsened. When the sleeper
was almost at the end, a minyan (quorum) of ten men was assembled and
they recited Psalms for the sick person's benefit. Sometimes his name would be
written on the Holy Ark in the shul, and sometimes a new name would be
added to his original name, a name alluding to a long life  such as Chaim or
Alter (meaning the old one). Sometimes a family member would run
to his Rabbi for a blessing. When the sick person was in his last minutes, they would
say he had passed through it. No dead person was buried in a casket.
There were side boards placed in the grave, and afterwards the body was positioned
in the grave with his talis and shrouds on his body,

and small pieces of shards were placed on the eyes. They covered him with
boards and buried him with the earth that was dug out of the grave.

The only organized group that existed in the town was the chevra kadisha,
a group of ordinary Jews whose job it was to prepare the body for burial, and
then to bury it.

In the town, there were no community activities. The three communal buildings
 the shul, the beis medrash, and the mikva (ritual baths),
could all be on the verge of collapse, but no one would even
think about calling an assembly to think about this issue and raise funds for
this cause. The remnants of these buildings would have to wait for the death of
a member of a wealthy family, and the chevra kadisha undertook to do
the final rites so that the family would donate a substantial
sum to the community, part of which would go to le'chaim
events (meaning festive occasions), and the rest would go to community needs.

The cemetery (דאס גוטע
ארט the good place) served as a place of burial as well
as a feeding place for cattle and horses. Only in 1923, when an American came
to visit his father's grave and he became aware of the situation with the
cemetery, he used his American dollars to make sure that cattle and horses
would not come near the graveyard.

In the town, there were no benevolent organizations, no unions or political
parties. The settlement was divided between those from an elite ancestry and
the ordinary folk. And the elite ones were divided into groups, each one to his
sort. Each group was called by the name of the city in which their Rebbe or
Tzaddik lived, such as Gerer, Alexander, Amshenover, etc. Each group kept a distance
from the other and all the groups distanced themselves from the ordinary folk.
The result of this was that neither the festive nor tragic occasions bore a
true united, harmonious character. For example, Purim and Simchas Torah
were very spirited in the town, but the festivities were not united. In fact, each group
was to its own.

The only time, in my days, when there were political factions in the town, was
when we needed a new Rabbi. There were two candidates: one from the Gerer
chassidim, and the second from the Alexander chassidim. The
town was divided into two sides: the Gerer side and the Alexander side. In
those times, being called a Gerer or an Alexander chossid had great
merit. This was the only time that the prominent people were counted
along with the regular people.

May this description serve as a gravestone to my deceased town of Biala.

[Pages 128-136]

Memories from the Past

by Shmuel Philips-Filezof

Translated from the Yiddish by Gloria Berkenstat Freund

Donated by Michael Schoeman

A. Election of a Rabbi in the Shtetl [Town]

I will try to describe an episode that took place in our shtetl, Biala, a world
that is no longer here. This must have happened in the year 1903, during
the election of a rabbi.

In our shtetl, Biala, as in all shtetlekh in Poland, life passed day-in
and day-out without change. No important occurrence happened that would
particularly stir the people. Therefore, the election of a new rabbi was the most
important event of that time.

There was a rabbi in Biala for a long time. He was called Rabbi Shimele. He was
an honest Jew and a genteel man. He was very learned and prayed the Neilah
[concluding prayer] on Yom-Kippur [Day of Atonement]. I can still taste his
recitation of Open the gates of compassion unto us, before closing the
gates He was an Aleksander Hasid. He had a wife, two daughters and
one son. The rebitzen [rabbi's wife] was Brayndele Cossack 
the reverse of the Rabbi. It was even said that the rebitzen and her daughters
went strolling with the gentile young men of Biala.

As it happened, Rabbi Shimele left to assume the rabbinical seat in another
city. A new rabbi had to be elected to take his place. Biala at the time
consisted of 400 Jewish families. The people were divided in various groups,
Gerer Hasidim, Aleksander Hasidim, Grodzhisker Hasidim, Amshehover Hasidim and
an unassuming group of various artisans. The Gerer Hasidim played the greatest
roll in Biala; first, because they were the majority,

[Page 129]

and, secondly, they had the support of people who were not Hasidim.

The second spot was occupied by the Aleksander Hasidim. Although they had a
small number, they had the support of the Amshehover Hasidim. Therefore, when
talk began about taking on a new rabbi in Biala, there was a great quarrel
between the Gerer and Aleksander Hasidim.

The procedure to elect a rabbi was as follows: every Jew who paid the kehile
[organized Jewish community] a certain yearly tax  it did not matter how
small the tax was - had voting rights. I think that is completely democratic.
The very poor Jews who could not pay any taxies did not have any voting rights.
The names of the candidates for a rabbi had to be given to the government and
the government designated a day when the voting would take place. As the Gerer
and the Aleksander Hasidim were the two largest groups in Biala, there were two
candidates for rabbi, a Gerer Hasid and an Aleksander Hasid. The candidates
would pay a certain sum of money to the city for the right [to be a candidate]
and the money would be used for city purposes such as remodeling the synagogue
or, lehavdil [word used to separate the sacred from the secular], the bathhouse. This was
when an agreement was arranged peacefully for one candidate. When they could
not unite and the quarrel was great, the money was used for election expenses
and to buy votes, to take on the air of strength and with threats of the need
to vote for one or the other candidate.

The writer of these lines still remembers that his father came home from an
election meeting of the Gerer Hasidim with a certain sum of money to buy
whiskey or use other means to get votes for the Gerer candidate.

And it happened that the day of the voting arrived. It was a Friday. A winter
day - wet and cold. The entire city set aside its commerce and they were busy
with the election. The Gerer Hasidim dragged Jews to vote for their candidate
and the Aleksander

[Page 130]

Hasidim dragged them to vote for their candidate. The results were that the
Gerer Hasidim won. Understand it was joy and happiness for the Gerer Hasidim
and mourning for the Aleksander. Shabbos, after the voting, the Gerer Hasidim
danced in the streets and they drank in the shtiblekh [one room prayer
house]. It was lively here.

However, it was pointless celebration. The Aleksander Hasidim criticized the
voting to the nachalnik [commander], that it was not honest and he
decreed new voting. The same things happened at the second election
and the result was that the Aleksander Hasidim won. The Gerer Hasidim
then protested to the nachalnik and he again decreed new voting.
The end was that a rich Gerer Hasid from Warsaw knew the governor in
Piotrkow. He used his influence and the governor arranged that the Gerer
Hasid candidate would be the rabbi in Biala.

I remember the day when the rabbi was supposed to arrive in Biala. It was a
great holiday. More than half the city went along the way where he was to
arrive and he was led into the city with music and song.

The quarrels in the city did not stop. It flared up still more. It was a
family, or better said, a civil war because the entire city of Biala consisted
almost entirely of relatives or in-laws. There were cases where entire families
were deadly enemies.

The first Shabbos, when the rabbi came to the beis-hamedrash
[synagogue] to pray, hot tar had been poured on the rabbi's place
and the rabbi could not sit down. The quarrels lasted a bit of time. There were
murderous blows every Shabbos at prayer. Fingers were bitten off. Until a
Beis-Din [religious court] of three rabbis was brought from another city.
The rabbis sat for two weeks and each night listened to the complaints from
the various sides, until the quarrels were stilled a little.

The Biala Rabbi was named Menakhem-Mendel Price. He had a wife

[Page 131]

and a daughter. Chanele was her name. He was very learned, wrote books on the
holy Yevamot [tractate on Levirate marriage]. His books were called Tiferes
Menakhem [Splendid Menakhem ]. He led a yeshiva [religious
secondary school] in Biala. Young men from other cities would come
to study with the Biala Rabbi and gegesn teg[1]
at the homes of the businessmen of the city.

B. Avoiding a Pogrom

There was a gentile holiday in Poland  griner donershtik
[green Thursday  Pentecost  50 days after Easter]. It took place during the
summer. All of the gentiles from the villages and from the city would come
together in the Polish church on this Thursday and then take out all of the
icons from the Polish church and go through the city to various places where
there were decorated booths. The priest, dressed in white, led under a canopy
and all of the gentiles after him stopped at the booths and celebrated a
religious ceremony.

There would be around 6,000 gentiles in Biala on this day. The Jews would hide
in their houses. They did not appear in the streets simply from fear. It must
have been in 1906. During the time when the wave of pogroms occurred in Russia.
A gentile with the unkosher name of Malinowski, a thief and a scoundrel, was
then in Biala. A few weeks before the holiday he went through Biala and said
that on the grinem donershtik a pogrom would take place and all of the
Jews in Biala would be killed. The Jews in Biala were afraid and thought
about what could be done to avoid the pogrom. A small meeting was called with
the rabbi and it was decided to let the nachalnik [commander] in Riwe
know about this because it was known that the nachalnik was ready to
take the matter in hand. Josef-Meir Weber sent a proshenje [petition] to
the nachalnik. This was usually in secret  so the gentiles would
not know of it. On Thursday in the morning  the gentiles did not expect
this  the nachalnik arrived in Biala with many strazshnikes
[guards] and gendarmes and went to the Polish church and the entire time in
which the procession took place

[Page 132]

they went along with them. And as it ended, all of the gentiles from the
villages were steered home and the gentiles in the city were told to go home.
Thus was avoided an unfortunate pogrom in Biala. This cost the city 25 rubles.

C. Leibish Shoykhet [Ritual Slaughterer]

This must have been in 1905. In Biala, our shtetl, as in all shtetlekh
in Poland, the religious leadership consisted of a rabbi, shoykhetim
[plural of shoykhet], a khazan [cantor], and shamosim
[assistants to the rabbi]. There were two shoykehtim in Biala. Not
because two were needed, because three cows and a few calves
were slaughtered in a week. But because there were Gerer and Aleksander
Hasidim, two shoykhetim were needed  one a Gerer Hasid and
the other an Aleksander Hasid and neither shoykhet had an income.
This lasted a few years. We also had a khazan; not really a khazan,
a good bel-tefilah [man who leads prayers in the synagogue]. The
shoykhet, the Aleksander Hasid, the older one, was named Shlomoh-Yitzhak.
He was a small Jew with a small beard. He was agile and was very learned.
He believed that he was the most important one. The second shoykhet 
the Gerer Hasid - was named Josef. He was as learned as Shlomoh-Yitzhak. He
was held to be a little lower.

Such a story happened: There was brit milah [covenant of circumcision] in
Biala. Shlomoh-Yitizhak, the older shoykhet, was there and there were
also Gerer Hasidim. When it came time for a blessing [on the wine], the honor
of the blessing was given to Shlomoh-Yitzhak. As he took the cup in his hand,
the Gerer Hasidim noticed that his hand shook. They went to the rabbi and
made a fuss that Jews were eating non-kosher food. The rabbi sent for the
shoykhet and it was determined that his hand did shake and the rabbi prohibited
slaughtering by Shlomoh-Yitzhak. He must have then been 70 years old. The
Aleksander Hasidim argued that because the rabbi was a Gerer Hasid he was a
concerned party. But because Reb Shlomoh-Yitzhak was

[Page 133]

over 70, they could not help. It would have been good if the shoykhet
had a son who would have been eligible to take his place - he would have had a
claim and would have become shoykhet. He did have a son, Pinkhas. However, he
was not eligible to take his place. He did not have enough education in order
to be a shoykhet and he was too young. Everyone in the shtetl knew
him as a brat and no one

Shmuel Meir the baker's house

had the nerve to suggest Pinkhas as the shoykhet, even the Aleksander Hasidim.

The khazan became ill at the same time. He was also an older Jew. The
khazan was named Moshe-Yitzhak. A smart Jew, he was well educated. A Litvak  the
only Litvak in Biala. In addition to being a khazan, he was also a teacher and did not
make enough money from either thing. Biala then was without a shoykhet and without
a khazan .

As it was learned that Biala needed to have a shoykhet and a khazan,
shoykhetim and khazonim [plural or khazan ] came to receive
the position. It was very difficult to obtain candidates for the position because a
candidate needed to divide the money from slaughtering with the old shoykhet
for his right [to the position] and give a few hundred dollars to the city. A khazan
also had to do the same. A shoykhet

[Page 134]

who already had a position did not want to take it because it was not profitable. Biala
went on with one shoykhet and without a khazan for almost an entire year.
The greatest trouble was in the Days of Awe. There was no one to pray musaf
[the extension of the Shabbos and High Holy Day prayers] in the synagogue.
It was necessary to take the beli-tefilus [men who lead prayers in the synagogue]
from the Hasidic shtiblekh [one-room prayer houses].

Once a young man came; his name was Leibl, from Ozorkow near Lodz. He had just
graduated as a shoykhet and this would have been his first position. He was also
a good khazan . One Shabbos he prayed and Biala was excited. No one
believed that he would want to be in such a small shtetl as Biala and then have
to give money and also divide the slaughtering money with the old shoykhet.

It was close to the Days of Awe; it was decided that the young man should
remain through the High Holy Days and it would later be decided what would then
happen. The young man went home to Ozorkow and he came back. Three choirboys
and a few young men from Biala became a choir of seven people. He instructed
the choir thoroughly. Every night almost all of Biala stood under the windows,
even non-Jews, in order to hear the beautiful singing.

The young man made a great impression with his praying on the Days of Awe. I am
sure that if he would then have been in America, he would have been one of the
greatest khazonim . After the holidays, a meeting was called and it was
decided to give the position to the young man as khazan and shoykhet
on the condition that he would divide the slaughtering money and pay 500 rubles and
also give part of the khazan money to the sick khazan .

The new khazan-shoykhet moved to Biala. I do not believe that he was
a Gerer Hasid. I believe that he was not a Hasid at all. He did not befriend the
Gerer Hasidim. The new khazan-shoykhet must have then been about
28 years old. He was a blond with a beautiful beard and he had a very beautiful
wife. They did not then have any children. It can be said that the couple was the
most beautiful

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and cleanest in the city - both externally and internally. Everything in their
house shone. Their clothing was clean and beautiful.

Everyone was satisfied with him during the first year. Quarrels began the
second year. They began to find faults.

From the left, Moshe Meir Fajgenbaum's and Shlomoh Ambus' house

Namely, he got married too late; he did not know enough; the slaughtering was
not as it should be; the butchers were afraid to let him slaughter in case he
made things unkosher; the Hasidim had complaints that he said words a few times
when praying; one choirboy was a sibling; the artisans complained that his
praying lasted too long and they were hungry.

In one word - dissatisfaction was created on all sides. The young man saw that
the game was for the devil and he was too fine and polite to quarrel with all
of the opponents. He did not wait until a new shoykhet was found and
his money was returned, but he received a position in a larger city where his
talent was recognized, with an income of 10 times more than he had in Biala.
And on a nice day, he left Biala.

It was evident that all the young man wanted was to be able to show that he had
had a position as a khazan-shoykhet. Therefore,

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the five hundred rubles that it cost him was worth it to him.

Until today I cannot forget the injustice that the Biala Jews committed in
relation to Leibish Shoykhet.

Moshe [Moshke] Kuperszmidt with his wife, Sheyndl,
with their two sons: Avraham [on the right] and Gedalyahu)

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